Skeletons in the Closet
by JaDE-rUst
Summary: She woke up with a hangover and the news that her Uncle had been abducted in the middle of the night by a giant bat. Mon Dieu...
1. Chapter 1

Skeletons in the Closet  
BY: JaDErUst

* * *

The phone was ringing. 

This had never been a problem before. Charisse's phone was always ringing with boys on the line begging to go out with her or girls crying and swearing over her stealing a fiancé or two away. However, this terrible unending ringing was not the number one pop tune of Charisse's phone. For that matter it was not the pleasant mocking tone Pandora had chosen for her own cell phone to play. It was the room phone.

Who the devil would call the room?

Groaning, Pandora put her hands over her ears and willed the dreadful sound to go away. Her head was killing her and her mouth was dry. How much exactly had she drunk last night? Too much obviously. Far, far too much.

From somewhere across the room she heard an answering moan and what sounded to be cursing in French. That had to be Charisse. What was Charisse doing in her room? Suddenly Pandora remembered the victorious first mission and the celebration. The champagne. The wine. The toasts. The wine. The ice cream binge. The wine. Being good friends with the heir of the largest vineyard in Loire Valley now seemed to be such a disadvantage. Sure it had meant an unending supply of the finest wine money could buy last night, but now it meant the finest hangover she had ever experienced.

And that damn phone continued to ring.

"Charisse," Pandora gasped out, raising her head slightly. She was on the floor surrounded by a dozen or so empty wine bottles and two large empty tubs of chocolate cookie dough ice cream. Raising herself up slightly higher she looked to see Charisse sprawled over her couch looking a little bit more then dead with her arm covering her face. "Charisse, answer the phone," she moaned as she collapsed back on the floor, face first.

Making a little whimpering noise Charisse rolled over on her side, putting her back to her friend. "No," came the pouty reply. "Head hurts. Get me coffee. I sleep now."

"Charisse!" Pandora winced at the sound of her own voice. "Answer the damn phone."

No reply except the sound of snorting fake snoring.

Groaning, head swimming, Pandora pulled herself to her knees with the aid of a coffee table and promptly collapsed with her head throbbing painfully. Hoping vainly to die soon, and with the phone continuing to ring she tried again. This time she managed to half crawl, half stagger along on her knees to a short table and pick up the phone. "God invented hangovers to show that he hates us," she muttered as she raised the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Bonjour. Pourrais-je parler à Mademoiselle Nashton," came the brisk, business like voice on the other end of the phone.

Pandora groaned and hit her head against the table once. She was too hungover to think in French and now her head hurt even worse from the blow. "Pardon, parlez vous Anglais?"

There was a pause from the other end of the line. "Oui. May I speak to Mademoiselle Nashton?"

"This is she."

"I have a... appel à P.C.V. a..."

Pandora's mind raced even though it hurt to think. "A collect call?" she asked at the woman on the line continued to struggle.

"Oui, a collect call from Argentina. Do you accept the charges?"

Blinking in surprise, Pandora somehow resisted the temptation to go find her cell phone and check to see if it was broken. There was really only way for her to get a phone call from that part of the world and it was through was the one who had bought her the cell phone. "Oui. Please put them through."

"Ne quittez pas."

The line went silent as she was put on hold. Sighing heavily and sinking to the floor, Pandora rested her back against the wall and wondered who could be calling her. There were very few people in Argentina that knew her well enough to wish to talk to her and none of them had ever called her room number before. They always went through her Uncle to speak with her, and that meant calling her cell phone. Rubbing her temples, as if that would get rid of her headache, she wondered what this could mean.

There were three people she knew from Argentina who would have reason to call her, Uncle, Niñera, and Paul. There was silent understanding that _she_ was the one to call Uncle at least once a month, more often if there was important news to report or she needed something, and that Uncle would never call her unless it was something very important. That was the reason for the cell phone. It was always to be on and always with her in the unlikely event that he needed to get in contact with her.

Niñera was to be called once a week, no excuses accepted. Even if there was nothing to tell the old woman she was to call or else face dire consequences whenever she went home. And the consequences were dire indeed. Her first year at school she had forgotten to call Niñera and _three months later_ at Christmas was made to suffer a long lecture in broken English and Spanish as Niñera demanded to know why she didn't love her enough to call her. Uncle had made no attempt to save her from the old woman's wrath. He had just smiled and eaten Christmas dinner as if nothing was happening. However, Pandora had been careful and made sure to call Niñera yesterday in preparation for whatever outcome the mission would bring. The old woman had been cheerful and glad to hear from her as usual and had mentioned nothing wrong. Even if there had been anything wrong she would have gotten in contact with her through Uncle, since technology worried Niñera, and that meant her cell phone again.

The only other person Pandora could even think might call her would be Paul. Paul was Uncle's bodyguard whenever Uncle went overseas and security head whenever they were at home. Paul had been around since before Pandora could remember and even though the man was nearing sixty and slowing down he still insisted on escorting her home and back to school every vacation without fail. The man was almost one of the family with his large soft hands and pepper gray hair. On more then one occasion Pandora had thought of the man as her Grandfather although telling him that would have been completely unacceptable. Paul, kind as he was to her, was all business first and foremost and believed that bodyguards were something to appreciate and be ready to dispose of instead of adopting them into the family. Every couple weeks or so Niñera would put Paul on the line so they could say a few words to each other, but besides that they rarely spoke unless in person. No Paul wouldn't call her, not even to remind her when to expect him coming for her.

In fact the more that she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Niñera would call her either. Not unless it was an emergency of course. Pandora felt her heart skip a beat for a moment then shook her head. No, there wasn't an emergency. If there had been and if Uncle couldn't call her about it himself, Niñera would have called her cell phone using the house line. There would be no mucking about with collect calls or calling her room. No, something didn't make sense about this whole situation and it was driving Pandora mad that she couldn't think straight long enough to figure the problem out.

Glancing up, Pandora realized that Charisse was sitting up staring at her and she smiled weakly at her friend. "Get me aspirin and some coffee?" she asked hopefully.

Charisse blinked at her blankly for a moment so Pandora repeated the request in French which caused the blond bombshell to frown and swear rather unbecomingly. "I forgot you don't have a maid," she said finally in English. "Why do you not hire one? I refuse to become yours."

Shrugging, Pandora grinned as Charisse tried to get up and failed. "You'd look so cute in a maid's uniform though... and I bet the men would pay me a fortune to be able to watch you dust in one."

Finally standing, Charisse swayed for a moment looking ill before finally turning towards the kitchen. "The wine was too young," Pandora heard her mutter as she went. "I shall never trust Alain again... The nerve of him sending me too young of wine..."

Pandora thought about laughing at her, decided that it would hurt too much, and was then distracted by a click on the phone that indicated that she had finally been connected. "Hello?" she sighed sinking against the wall more. Hopefully whatever this person wanted could be dealt with quickly so she could go sleep this hangover away.

"Pandora?" The voice on the other side of the line was timid and familiar.

"Niñera?" Her brow furrowed in annoyance as she realized that someone she had dismissed as a possibility was the one actually calling her. She waited for the old woman to say something else then froze as she heard a sniffle and a muffled sob come from the other side of the line. "Niñera? What's the matter? What happened?"

"El señor está en apuro!" came the sudden shout and Pandora yanked the phone away from her ear.

Her head hurt too much to deal with Spanish too, but Niñera sounded almost hysterical and she had been raised in a household of Spanish servants so she knew the language better then French. However, despite how hard she tried she could not form the correct words in her mind to speak. Giving up, she hoped Niñera would calm down enough to understand her in English. "Trouble? What sort of trouble? Why is Uncle in trouble?"

Pandora rubbed her forehead as Charisse reentered the room. Niñera was talking rapidly in Spanish, so quickly she didn't have a hope of understanding her. Lord, she wished she wasn't hung over. Accepting the pills and water she offered she downed them quickly before looking up at her friend. "How would you translate 'secuestrado?'" she asked using the word Niñera seemed to be using the most often.

Charisse looked puzzled for a moment. "Spanish?" At Pandora's nod she thought for a moment, biting the bottom of her lip. "Enlevé perhaps?"

"Doesn't help. English please." Niñera was raving now. Whatever was wrong had driven the old woman to near sobbing and Pandora was struggling between being worried herself or going to bed and dealing with this later.

"I would translate it as abducted," Charisse said helpfully. "Kidnapped perhaps?"

"Oh," Pandora sighed. She blinked once. "What!?" she shouted and regretted it instantly. "Niñera! What do they want? Are you okay? Tell them we'll pay them anything if they don't hurt you!"

Looking interested, Charisse sat down on the couch and watched Pandora intently as Niñera began to protest. "No, no niño. El señor está en apuro! El **señor**."

"I..." Worry was beginning to overtake her and the Spanish was overloading her already strained brain. What had happened exactly? Why couldn't Niñera just tell her in English? She was too hung over for Spanish...

Sighing, Charisse stood and took the phone from her, putting it to her ear and speaking in perfect Spanish as Pandora stared blankly at the phone. "Someone has kidnapped your Uncle, cherie," she said after a moment of listening. "It happened only a few hours ago after someone cut the power to your home and sabotaged the back up generators."

"What? How? ...What about Paul? Why didn't Paul stop them?"

Charisse spoke into the phone for a moment then listened. "Your man Paul is in the hospital. The kidnapper broke his leg."

Pandora stared at her friend, eyes wide. "What to they want from us? Who did this?" she demanded, grabbing on to Charisse's sleeve and bending closer to the phone.

After asking the question, Charisse frowned at the answer as she shook her head. "The kidnapper had made no demands, cherie. However, I do not understand this woman. She says the man who took your Uncle was a giant bat."

"A giant bat?" Her head hit her knees and Pandora wished she was sober enough to be able to deal with this all properly. A giant bat could not have taken her uncle. Giant bats that kidnapped people did not exist much less send old, much beloved body guards to the hospital. Niñera had to be confused. Charisse had to be translating wrong. There was no way that-

Wait...

Fuck.

* * *

_Hope you liked the fic so far. I know it's a little confusing, but I promise many many things will be explained in the next chapter. The only thing that I can really tell you about this fic is that is inspired partly from reading the always fabulous Chris Dee, the hilarious Bright Nova, and Scarecrow's squeeze BiteMeTechie while being sick as a dog and watching Batman: The Animated Series. This prompted me to pull out all my Batman comics and start re-reading them when my brain started functioning again (The Long Halloween and Hush are my absolute favorite arcs EVER.) So, if there are any problems with the story (and please tell me if I get anything wrong so I can fix it) I blame illness.  
_

_I also apologize in case I messed up with the Spanish and French in the story. I speak neither language so for Spanish I relied heavily on the inter-mah-net and for French I forced my friend Kate (who may or may not have been telling me the wrong things) who's minoring in the language. Why? She doesn't know and she told me that I had to tell you all that._

_ Mission accomplished.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Skeletons in the Closet

BY: JaDErUst

NOTE: Spoken words in Italics are words translated from a foreign language. In case you're wondering that means German for the police.

* * *

It is not the first time Inspector Durin Haswell had been called to Adel, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but by far this case was the most bizarre. Now who would bypass a state of the art security system, ignoring the priceless painting in the main hall, just to play a prank? 

The call had come in the early hours of the morning. Herr Gutenberg, Headmaster of Adel, had called in a frantic rage. "_Vandalizers!_" he'd shouted and screamed. "_Criminals! You must come here at once, find the ones that did this, and punish them with the full extent of the law!_" He'd slammed the phone down then, giving no further explanation. It was only a few minutes later when the man's personal assistant called that the full details had been given. There had been a break in and while nothing seemed to have been stolen, a prank had been played that had sent the Headmaster in a rage.

While a robbery was a serious offense, pranks were never on the top of the police brigade's list of things to investigate. However, the Chief of Police was attempting to have his son attend Adel on scholarship, a nearly futile effort, and so Haswell had been sent to lead the investigation with a team of twenty men.

Adel Akademie der Progressiven Studien was a private boarding school known world over for two things... The wealth of the students who attended it and the security measures the school took to keep their students safe. Approaching the main gate of the school Inspector Haswell noted the security cameras discretely hidden along the walls bordering the school's campus and made a mental note to have one of his men review the tapes. His ID was already in his hand as he approached the front gate and he presented it without being asked for it to the guard that waited there. "_Good morning, Arnold,_" he said, quickly recognizing the guard as his next door neighbor and friend for the past twenty years. "_How is everything_?"

Arnold smiled at him as he quickly typed in the Inspector's information into his computer terminal and called ahead to give permission for the man's access. "_I've had better days, Durin. The entire school is panicking over the break in even though nothing seems to have been stolen. This is the sort of day where I am glad I only work at the gatehouse. The Headmaster is driving everyone crazy over this._"

"_I'll do my best to find the perpetrators,_" Durin promised and drove through the gate as it opened.

Adel had been founded just as World War I had started to take advantage of Switzerland's neutrality by taking in the wealthy children of families who found themselves surrounded by war. At first Adel had been exclusively for the nobility and the school still reflected that early tendency. The buildings were huge with cathedral ceilings in every room. Every classroom, no matter the subject, was full of classical paintings and sculpture and the mandatory on campus housing had dorm rooms most apartment dwellers would kill for. A staff of 200 maids, chefs, and laundresses, available 24 hours a day, were employed to keep the school's 500 students happy and the campus crisp and clean. However, despite the luxury every student found themselves surrounded by the students Durin drove by looked bored and unimpressed with their surroundings. These were the children of royalty, the very richest of businessmen, and the most powerful criminals in the world. They had been raised to expect that they deserved such riches.

_Lazy bastards_, Durin thought to himself in disgust as he pulled up in front of the main hall and stepped out of his car. It would be interesting to see this prank that had brought out twenty one of the police's best.

There was an officer at the door waiting for him who bowed and very quickly began to explain the situation to him. "_Nothing has been touched, sir. The Lieutenant has seen to that personally. What you shall see is exactly what was discovered this morning by a janitor._"

"_And what shall I see inside_?"

The officer was not quite able to hide the smile from his face. "_I think it would be best for you to see it yourself instead of hearing me describe it to you, sir._"

Durin raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. It would only take half a moment more to actually walk into the building and see the prank in any case.

Two guards were standing at the door who opened the first set of doors for them. Stepping inside the foyer Durin noticed no evidence of a disturbance although he could hear the sounds of a man shouting angrily from just ahead, beyond another set of doors. A second set of guards were posted there too and after flashing his ID Durin was able to enter the room. He had to blink twice to check and be sure that his eyes were not deceiving him.

White was everywhere. Someone, for reasons that escaped Durin entirely, had taken the considerable time and effort to change everything white. However, nothing seemed to have been painted over or whitewashed... Instead someone had covered everything with white sheets. The floors were covered as where the windows and walls. Furniture had been carefully and tightly covered with even more sheets so that their exact form could easily be seen. White sheets covered lighting fixtures and the large statue in the center of the room, and when Durin looked up, he could see that someone had carefully covered the ceiling with sheets as well. The perpetrators, no one could have done this alone, had even wrapped the school's crystal chandelier in white sheets so that only the light bulbs remained uncovered.

At the far end of the room, on the landing of the staircase to the second floor that was also covered in white, Gutenberg stood, his face red, and shouted and screamed at an annoyed looking guard as he gestured wildly. Unwilling to distract the man from his chosen prey quite yet, Durin took another look around and wondered who would have ever done such a thing. To cover everything in white sheets? There seemed no reason for it, no motive. He had to admit though, to pull off such a prank all in one night without getting caught, was actually rather clever.

But he still had no idea who may ever want to do such a thing...


	3. Chapter 3 Pandora's POV

Skeletons in the Closet

BY: JaDErUst

NOTE: Spoken words in Italics are words translated from a foreign language. In case you're wondering that means German for the police.

* * *

After Niñera's phone call I was in no mood for anything. Something was up that I was being left out of and that made me angry. So, despite the fact that she was only trying to be supportive and cheer me up, Charisse was kicked out the instant she tried to give me a hug and I went into my room to pack. I had to decide how I was going to get back home to Argentina but I was still too tired and hung over to think. Still tired and hungover I decided to do what any decent human being would and went to take a shower. 

I must say that I firmly believe showers are the greatest invention man has ever come up with by far. What was a hangover and a terrible migraine was quickly melted away to a relaxed feeling of contentment due to the soothing ministrations of hot water. In next to no time at all I found myself finally ready to deal with the predicament that interesting and rather confusing phone call had left me with.

Sighing deeply I stood under the hot water and tried to think. There are only two possible explanations for Niñera's call. One possibility, the one I've decided to hope for, will cause a lot of planning and possible criminal actions. The other possibility, the one I'm beginning to dread, will require me to fly back home to beat my dear Uncle about the head with a tire iron until I manage to knock some sense into him. In either case my first step is, of course, getting back to Argentina.

Calling for my family's private jet is simply out of the question. To begin with, if possibility two is correct, my Uncle will quickly stop the jet from coming to fetch me and thus be warned of his imminent beating. If possibility one is the correct one (please please please let number one be correct) it will simply take too much time for the jet to come get me and then go back. Besides, Niñera said Paul had been sent to the hospital (Note to self: Send that poor darling flowers.) so a new pilot will have to be found before the jet could even take off.

No, my best bet will be to get to the nearest airport and catch the first flight I can find to Argentina. Not the most pleasant way of traveling (not even first class is as comfortable as napping in a full sized bed for most of the flight overseas) but it would have to do. I needed to go home and discover what happened and I need to find out yesterday. And it's not just because my chest gets tight and my head feels lightheaded whenever I think of having to wait to unravel the mystery, I'm actually worried about what might be happening to (or should be happening to) Uncle. Really truly.

Smiling in contentment at the beginnings of my plan I lathered conditioner in my hair and was just starting to wash it out when I heard a crash and the unmistakable sound of a fire alarm going off in my apartment. _Charisse_. I knew it without even having to get out and check. Despite the fact that I had told her to get out of my rooms she had somehow gotten back in. She's always doing that whenever I'm not watching her carefully to make sure she really leaves.

"Stupid... Horrible..." I muttered under my breath as the fire alarm continued to ring. She was making me cut my shower short! Getting out of the blessed water I quickly found a robe and, pausing to grab a fire extinguisher from the closet, ran to the kitchen. My stove top was a sea of flames, Charisse standing nearby looking frantic as she fed the flames in a desperate attempt to put them out.

"Don't fail me now," I muttered to the fire extinguishers as I pulled the pin. Fire extinguishers have yet to fail at bailing me out of other people's fires and this one was no exception. With a slight roar and must spurting of white foam (_Foam_, I had to remind myself, _Not power_.) the fire was quickly doused. Crisis adverted, I frowned deeply at my fire ravaged stove and turned around very very slowly. Uncle 'run while you still can or die' slowly. Works every time. Despite the fact that I was in a robe with wet hair I still managed to look threatening and imposing enough to cause Charisse to cower. With the same almost painful slowness I silently reached up and wrenched the battery out of the alarm. The alarm died into nothing and Charisse looked as she was afraid that I was going to beat her.

_I wonder what will happen when she realizes that by being six inches taller then me and freakishly strong I have no hope of physically being able to push her around... Let's hope that day comes later rather then sooner..._

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded in a voice that would have made Uncle gently pat me on the head and tell me to try better next time. I've never been able to sound threatening but the way Charisse looked at me at that moment you would have thought that I had been pointed a gun at her head and gave her the choice between a quick or slow death.

"I was making you waffles, chéri," she sniffled. I hate it when she calls me chéri although I'm starting to be able to ignore it. Chéri is just such a... familiar way of addressing me. My Uncle would probably have a long lecture prepared to tell me exactly why we must never get too familiar with normals but I already know why. There's just certain things that you don't want people not tied to the family involved in. My twelfth birthday party is testament to that.

"You make waffles in a waffle iron, not on the stove top," I tell her and eye the mess on my counters wearily. Flour, broken eggs, and corn syrup is everywhere. I don't know how it's even possible for her to have made such a mess without it being on purpose. "Why were you using corn syrup?" I asked picking up the nearly empty bottle in confusion. _Did I even have corn syrup before now?_

"What are waffles without syrup, chéri? You of all people should know that."

"You use maple syrup with waffles."

"Oh. What do you use corn syrup with then?"

Nothing came to mind. "I dunno. Not waffles anyway." Briefly I thought about immediately cleaning up the mess that surrounded me, but I quickly dismissed that thought. I had much more pressing things to deal with. I decided to either let it wait until I got back or have a school maid clean it up for me. After all, is was out of the question to make Charisse clean it up and not expect the world to be destroyed as a result. She's the type of person who could start trying to wipe off a table and somehow set off a nuclear device. That would be on the opposite side of the world from her. I don't know how she could do it, but she would just because she's talented like that. "Get out of my rooms, Charisse."

"But chéri, I wish to help you!" she protested vainly as I began to ignore her. "Together we will be able to save your Uncle from the clutches of that most foul and evil man-bat, this I promise you!"

_Batman_, I mentally corrected her as I crossed my arms over my chest. _Batman kidnapped him or someone's going to have to pay for this..._ Telling her this would cause too many unwanted questions that I have no desire to answer. "Charisse? Get out," I ordered flatly. Ignoring her completely I thought instead of the story I would have to tell the airport so I get on the first possible flight to Argentina.

"No!"

I was surprised. "No?"

"Oui! I shall not leave you, chéri! You need help and I am the one who can aid you!"

Blinking I stared at her for a long moment. The person standing before me was not the Charisse I knew. The Charisse I knew was pretty and blond and French and a complete push over unless flirting with boys, shopping, or attempting to give me a hug. This Charisse (while still pretty, blond, and French) was standing there looking at me with determination on her face and in her eyes. This Charisse had both fists clenched and a body language that suggested that if I attempted to force her out she would retaliate with physical force. I was not used to seeing her this way. Only once, in our freshman year at Adel, had I ever seen her this way and that day she managed to knock her opponent unconscious with a tennis ball.

A smile flitted across my face before I could help myself at that memory. Charisse and I had only been passing acquaintances at the time stuck together to play doubles in gym. Our opponents were none other then the infamous Muffy VanWhite (who she told me later had been spreading a nasty rumor about her and STDs for the past two weeks) and her ugly minion Jane Gray. Both of them were rather annoying, shallow girls who loved to taunt and bully everyone they met. I did my best to ignore them but poor Charisse was chosen to be the brunt of all their cruel jokes and pranks for that year.

Muffy and Jane had been insulting us the entire game so far but we were still soundly beating them at 30-Love. Then it happened. Just as I served the ball Muffy let out a exceptionally cruel chuckle and said in a rather loud voice; "Have you heard about Charisse's mother?"

Jane seemed to have been expecting this since she didn't even glance at her as she returned the ball. "No. What have you heard?"

Charisse batted the ball back, a look of contained fury on her face as she glared at the girls and waited for them to continue.

Muffy giggled again and sent the ball back over the net. "I heard that when she and Charisse's father met she was still walking the streets!"

Charisse missed the ball as Jane giggled shrilly. They continued to giggle as I went to fetch the ball and tossed it over to them. Glaring at Charisse I growled at her to ignore them as they served the ball. Despite the fact that my partner was trembling with rage we still managed to stop them from scoring and I began to serve again.

I remember Charisse running up to me as I prepared to throw the ball. "Arrêt!!" she'd shouted. "Svp! Let me serve!"

I stared at her blankly. "You serve next set," I told her plainly.

"Svp, chéri! Let me serve!"

I glanced down at the ball in my hand then at her pleading face and sighed heavily. "Sure," I muttered lowly, handing her the ball. "Just don't call me chéri."

She grinned at me. "Naturellement!"

Taking my place I watched out of the corner of my eye as Charisse threw the ball up into the air, watched it come down, and hit it with all of her might. My muscles tensed in preparation to go after the ball on the return but I needn't have bothered. With the accuracy of a laser guided missile the ball arced in the air... and hit Muffy VanWhite right between the eyes.

She hit the ground like a rock, the ball bouncing harmlessly away, as Jane began to scream and the blood began to gush out of the blond girl's nose. Instantly the school's medics (who were always close at hand) rushed to the rescue while Jane screamed and screamed. I straightened up and walked over to Charisse who was holding her racket and looking tense and grim. "Well that's game."

"P-Pardonnez-moi... I- I ruined the game," she looked guilty but still not sorry as she held her racket so tightly it looked like it would break. "I just... She... I needed..."

"No, it's fine," I told her, shrugging slightly. We watched together as the medics hauled away on a stretcher. "I think you broke her nose... That's brilliant."

I remember Charisse staring at me for a long moment, mouth slightly agape, before she finally smiled. "Would you like to get some ice with me next trip to the city?"

"Sure."

It was the beginning of a beautiful (and rather annoying) friendship. Despite how hard Muffy's parents tried they weren't able to get Charisse expelled (Charisse's family was richer, more powerful, and better liked then the VanWhites) so Muffy was removed from the school so she could attend a school more suited to her 'tastes.' Poor girl. While she was still in the hospital recovering from the broken nose and fractured skull Charisse had given her I tried to extend my condolences for her injuries and sent her a nice large bouquet of yellow daisys and a tube of tennis balls. Rumour has it that she screamed for three hours straight at the sight of the tennis balls and still has a lasting phobia of the game and the colour yellow. I'm still waiting for yellow to reemerge as the colour of fine fashion for the season.

But I digress... Charisse was more angry then I had seen her in years. Not knowing how to deal with her when she was like that I quickly reviewed my options. First I could attempt to force Charisse from my apartment and sneak out a window to catch a cab to the airport while she attempted to break in. However I somehow doubted that I could eject her. Not without suffering injuries on my part that is. My second option was to simply run. My suitcase was on the way to the front door and I was significantly faster then my friend so I'd probably be able to get away. I was still in my robe though and Charisse was standing in the archway of the kitchen so I dismissed that plan as well. I considered right there breaking off the friendship (Possible Consequence: Physical harm), insulting her until she ran off crying (Possible Consequence: More physical harm), telling her the truth about my family so she could realize why she couldn't come (Possible Consequence: Being picked up by the Police and Uncle killing me for letting things slip), and drugging her so she couldn't follow (Possible Consequence: Jail time). Finally I decided that my only possible choices were 1) Talking her out of this or 2) Telling her she could come and then ditching her.

"Help? How could you possibly help me, Charisse? You're not a bodyguard and I don't need a planner."

As my intent was to convince her _not_ to come with me, the victory that suddenly flashed across her face was annoying to say the least. Smiling widely, putting her hands on her hips, she grinned at me widely and said; "I shall be your... How do you say it in English? Lapin?"

"You'll be my rabbit?"

"Yes!"

"...How will you being a small fuzzy creature help me?"

Charisse gave me a pitying look at that and I glared in return. She sighed dramatically. "Chéri you simply must watch more movies with me. A rabbit is most obviously a term referring to the one who distracts and lures the target to the location where they will be kidnapped."

"I'm not going to kidnap anyone."

"I know, chéri. I am merely using that word as an... analogie?"

"Analogy."

"Oui, analogie for our upcoming mission. I shall be your distraction."

I stared at her for a long moment. What exactly did Charisse think I was going to be doing? I was going on a rescue mission, which would probably involve bribes, guns, and explosions, not going out to make some petty cash. "I don't need someone to be my distraction," I told her flatly, crossing my arms over my chest and resisting the urge to shiver. I was starting to get cold in my robe with my wet hair.

She pouted. "Then what do you need, chéri? I will do anything!"

Sighing heavily I shook my head and pushed past her to head towards my room. "I don't need anything from you, Charisse. I need a flight home, not a minion. Now go away. By the time I'm dressed you better be out of here or I will be very displeased." I shut my bedroom door in her face before she could protest and quickly got dressed.

Uncle has tried to raise me to always be prepared for anything. I wonder if he ever expected me to be prepared for a situation like this? Actually, now that I think about it, he probably did. Every time I've gone home there's always been a lecture waiting for me about the importance of always being prepared. When I used to live with him in Argentina it always was easier to do that. Niñera was always there to remind me to wear heavier clothes in case I had to stay out longer then expected or couldn't go home for the night. With Paul at my side I would always watch the alleys of the market more closely for danger and walked with a bounce in my step that could easily turn into a dive for cover. It's not that anyone has ever been after me per say, the target's always been Uncle. After all, I've never traveled in the 'make an enemy of us and we'll kill you' circles once, but Uncle's been following that path for most of his adult life. It's his precious work that's always making new enemies... Then again, it's that same precious work that's always gotten rid of those same enemies as well. However, despite the fact that nobody's after me I have always been considered a good target for getting to Uncle ever since I've been little.

A cold draft of air hit my skin and for a moment I felt myself shudder. Resisting the urge to go back into the shower and stay under the hot water until my skin turned red I instead put on a sweater. Standing in front of the mirror I slowly turned around twice and eyed my form from head to toe. The sweater was a gift from Charisse from last Christmas, a pretty thing made of angora and dyed a shimmering green. The neckline is low and the hem is long so I technically don't have to wear leggings or a skirt under it although, for warmth, I always do. It also doesn't match the old t-shirt and jeans I had originally chosen. How annoying. I strip and instead put the green warmth on over a tank top and stretchy leggings that remind me of the 80's. Again I studied myself and wondered what the people at the airport would think when they saw me.

In this outfit I was someone with a sense of fashion, probably rich (or someone who spent every spare dime on clothing), with a pressing need to go to Argentina? Wasn't going to work. While my homeland is now relatively stable, some parts of South America have a reputation for kidnapping tourists for ransom. Walking into an airport like this would make everyone wonder if and why I was intending to be a target. Despite the fact that I still wanted the sweater I would have to set it aside for whatever my new outfit was going to be. Too bad. I love that sweater...

While Uncle always told me it was to further my education, I know he sent me away to Adel to be safe. It was the timing that told me this more then anything else. It was right after the disaster of my twelfth birthday party. I had just recovered to the point where I wasn't waking up in the middle of the night screaming and waking the entire house when Uncle had walked into my play room. To me, this was a momentous occasion. It was rare, almost unheard of, to see my Uncle during the day. Dinner was usually the first time I saw the man and after dinner as I played by his sitting room's fire and he read the paper was the only times we really spent time together.

It wasn't like the man had no interest in me, on the contrary; he took great interest in everything I did. At least every other month or so he would drop in unannounced while I was being tutored and quiz me thoroughly on everything he thought I should have learned by that point. I always loved when he'd do that. The way he'd walk in, so tall and lanky and take a seat while my tutor's face paled... I loved to recite my lessons, craved the nods of encouragement he'd give me to continue. After I was done, if he was really pleased, he'd give me a pat on the head and tell the tutor to keep up the good work. The door would quietly click shut behind him and my tutor would sigh deeply as if some terrible crisis had been adverted. I didn't know it at the time, but for my tutors a crisis _had_ been adverted... But then I didn't know about the family business until I was twelve.

That day, the fact that he had so casually broken the way of things was mind blowing to me. Sitting down in an ignored arm chair he dismissed Niñera (who I only realized later was very nervous) and beckoned me over. When I stopped at the edge of his seat and looked at him expectingly he sighed and reached out with both his hands. "Come."

I shivered once, bringing me out of old memories and quickly put on my new outfit. It was a much better choice. The old jeans were back but this time I was wearing an obviously cheap blouse and boots like a construction workers'. Grabbing an extremely comfortable quilted flannel jacket and putting it on I smiled at the result.

With the cheap, old clothing and the dark circles under my eyes from my night of drinking I looked like an overworked college student instead of a 17 year old on a mission. I made a mental note to grab my passport that reported my age as 22 as I put my hair up in a messy and hurried looking pony tail to complete the illusion. A college student could be expected to go to South America, especially if I dropped references to archeology as I begged for my ticket. With this look I could be a student on their way to an internship who had, quite foolishly, forgotten to do the most important thing and book a ticket.

Yes, I could get some pathos with that.

Satisfied I exited my room, briefly checked to make sure Charisse was gone (She was.) and after collecting my luggage exited my room and made my way down the hall. Despite the fact that the girl's dorm at Adel is larger then most apartment buildings there is no more then six apartment dorms per floor. All five of the other doors where shut. That was normal, but I walked down the hall as quietly as I could just in case one of the girls randomly decided to open their door and see who it could be. My messy clothes and hair would be sure to draw attention to myself in such a rich and fashionable place and the last thing I wanted was that. I took the stairs the three floors down and stood at the main door to the building feeling slightly nervous.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath as the sudden realization that I was going to have to sneak off campus struck me. Adel was like a military base, no one got in or out without permission so there was little chance I would be allowed to leave without being questioned. The fact that I was wearing old (poor looking) clothes and carrying a suitcase was sure to raise alarm as well. We were in the middle of winter term so there was no reason for a student to leave without a parent or guard personally calling the school to inform them in advance. There was no Paul to pick me up either. Everyone knew that I was never to be let off campus unless on a school activity or with Paul. It was written in my record.

Mentally I cursed my Uncle and the school's paranoia before coming to a decision. There was _one_ way off campus that Charisse and I had discovered when we were 15 and wanted to party at the clubs in town. You had to go through the tennis courts, past the croquet set up, and scale a tree so you could scramble over the brick wall and drop to the ground. I had gotten to the point where I could do it in a cocktail dress and heels so my clothing wouldn't be a problem, but the suitcase would make things more difficult. I cursed Adel. If I went to any other school I could have owned a backpack and been able to escape with my clothes in that. At Adel everyone was too rich to own backpacks. We carried designer shoulder bags barely able to carry a single book or nothing at all.

Plus, being winter, snow was heavy on the ground. The tennis and croquet areas would not be in use and so would not have been shoved at all... And I hate the snow...

I was just considering the likelihood that I would survive being taken out with the trash when a long black limo pulled up in front of the building and Charisse popped her head out through a window. Seeing me through the glass, she smiled widely and began waving energetically. "Chéri! Chéri over here! Look! I am helping!" I could hear her voice, muffled though it was through, the glass. That meant that she had to be shouting at the top of her lungs, something that seemed to be probable as a few students walking outside started to stare at her.

To make her shut up more then anything else I ran out of the building, ripped open the back of the limo door and jumped inside. "What do you think you're doing!?" I hissed as I pushed the button for the window to roll up. "I'm trying to escape and... Where did you get this limo?"

Charisse looked like a cat who had just caught a canary. This irked me. Only I'm supposed to be that ridiculously pleased with myself. "I am helping, chéri! After speaking to the Headmaster and explaining our dire situation he gladly lent us the use of his limo for the trip to the aéroport."

I blinked. This... This was easier, less disgusting, and less dangerous then my trash plan. I couldn't let her know how much I approved though. "First of all, you're not coming with me," I told her flatly. "Second of all, you told the Headmaster what!?"

If anything, her smile grew. "Do not worry, chéri, I kept your secret. Instead of telling him of the man-bat I told him that your Uncle had fallen very ill and you, so concerned over his health, wished to go to him." It was a real effort to try and not laugh hysterically at this. Uncle had never been sick a day in his life (that I'd noticed at least... ignoring the occasional bullet wound he got while out working) and even if he was he would never, ever let me nurse him back to health. "Do not look at me so, chéri. He believed me! He was so very distracted by our prank that he did not think twice about my story."

"Our prank?" I had forgotten about that... Although now that I looked out the window towards the main building I could see the gathering of students in the snow as well as the flashing lights of a dozen or so police cars. "Oh. How'd it turn out?"

"Even more brilliant then I'd imagined, chéri! You are a true genius of planning! They were just realizing that you had wiped the security tapes surrounding the building when I spoke to the Headmaster and the shade of red his face turned... Well, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud!"

I preened as she continued to rave about the wild success our prank had been, crediting me with almost everything even though it had been her who had come up with the idea and forced me into it. I still didn't get why she had wanted to cover the entire grand hall with white sheets and I somehow doubted that I would ever be able to figure it out. However, it had looked fantastic in the moonlight we'd worked in and it made me pleased to know that it looked more impressive in the day. It would be a shame that we would be leaving before the entire drama surrounding the incident would unfold.

I told Charisse this in hopes that she would get the hint and decide to stay behind, but she smiled at me brightly and said; "There will always be other crimes, chéri!"

Other crimes? Great. My only friend has gotten it into her head to become a master criminal only her taste in crimes is to cover everything with sheets stolen from the elementary dorm... What did that make her? Sheet Woman? I giggled at the thought. Yes, Sheet Woman! Feared by all for her soothing lullaby songs and her vicious ability to put people to bed and _tuck them in_! Wait... If she was Sheet Woman what did that make me? _Stuff'n'Fluff_,my mind supplied me and instantly I was laughing hysterically.

"Chéri? What is the matter? Why are you laughing?" I heard Charisse asking once I had finally calmed down enough.

Shaking my head and wiping tears from my eyes I told her it was a private joke before looking out the window. While I had been laughing we had passed through the gates of Adel and was heading towards town. _Great_, I thought to myself. _It's going to be harder to get rid of her now._

As if reading my mind, Charisse grinned at me widely and clasped my hand in her own. "Oh, chéri, I almost forgot to tell you! You need not worry any longer about our transportation to your home! I have arranged for our flight and a car to be waiting for us when we arrive."

"You got us a flight?" I was surprised. I had been almost positive that I would be unable to find a single straight flight from Switzerland to Argentina and had been counting on having planning carefully to make sure I always had a connection. "Who are we flying?"

"My cousin Jacques has agreed to fly us in my family's jet so long as we allow him some time at our destination to spend time with his lover."

I frowned. The prospect of a straight, private flight was fantastic, but the idea of two lovers tagging along was not so great. I could just imagine the look on my Uncle's face once he found out I had brought them to the house. He would _kill_ me. "They can't come to the house," I told her sternly, grabbing my hand away.

"Of course," came the quick agreement. "I will arrange for a romantic hotel room as soon as I know what city we will arrive to."

"Mendoza . We'll fly into Mendoza if we can manage it. Otherwise we can land in Buenos Aires and I'll hire a prop plane to take me the rest of the way."

"Us. To take us the rest of the way."

"To take _me_ the rest of the way. You can stay in Buenos Aires and enjoy the city. They have some good shopping. You'd enjoy yourself more."

"But... I wish to help you chéri..."

"You are helping, after all you got me the flight there."

"But I wish to help more."

I sighed deeply. "Charisse, you can't help me more then that. This is something I'll have to do myself."

"Why?"

"It might be dangerous," I told her truthfully as I started to stare out the window at the passing countryside and the heavy snow that covered it.

"Does that not mean I shall have to help you more?"

"No, it means that you're going to stay in Buenos Aires so that you don't get in the way," I said shortly. I looked at the window that separated us from the driver. It was closed but that didn't mean anything so I wasn't about to let anything slip that I shouldn't. However, I also couldn't just leave Charisse like that either. She might get ideas in her head that I really wanted her help but was too proud to ask for it. Which is untrue. This is something I want to do myself. "My Uncle..." My voice was hesitant. "He's not the nicest person. He won't take kindly to you coming with me."

"But why?"

"Because you aren't part of the family," I told her and that shut her up. While she's not Italian with the stereotype of the fanatical devotion to the family she did understand the importance of it. Pouting, she crossed her arms and legs and stared angrily at a corner of the floor and I resumed my study of the outside. It was just starting to snow and I shuddered at the sight of large white clumps falling down from the sky. I hate the snow...

I was twelve and it was my first (and last) birthday party at the house. I was excited. The week before, Niñera and I went to Mendoza to pick out a new birthday dress for me and I couldn't wait to show it to Uncle. It was a pure white, like the snow on the ground, with a dozen or more bows and ruffles. My Uncle told me I looked like a marshmallow. I was too excited about the party to come that I told him he needed to get his eyes checked. He frowned at me then sighed and gave me a pat on the head. "Happy Birthday, child."

I still don't know how she did it, but Niñera had convinced Uncle to invite all the children and their families from the village below to come to the party. I listened in eagerly to part of their argument about it but all I really remember about it is that Niñera disapproved of the fact that I was normally not allowed to play with the other children and while Uncle was content to completely ignore the village people they considered him a sort of benefactor. After all, wasn't it because of him that the village had stayed out of the political unrest that had swept the rest of the country and didn't he supply them with their electricity and safe water? There were lots of other arguments as well, they argued well into the night and long after I'd fallen asleep with my ear pressed to the crack of the door. In the end Niñera got her way and I was ecstatic over the idea of being able to play with all my village friends without Paul or one of the other body guards hovering over me.

The day before my birthday it had snowed once again and the snow lay very thick over the ground. The guests had arrived and already eaten. Everyone had sung Happy Birthday to me in broken English and fluent Spanish and the cake had been cut. I hadn't cared enough about presents to want to open them and instead began playing games with the village children with the intent that we wouldn't stop until I collapsed from exhaustion or everyone went home for the night.

We had been playing hide and seek (which was actually not all that fun since Uncle had forbidden us from leaving the main ballroom) and I had chosen to hide behind Uncle's big chair since few of the children would ever have dared go near him. He'd ignored me as I hid, sipping instead from a glass of punch and eying his guests with a mixture of annoyance and acceptance. When one of the bigger children finally got up the courage to run up and call me on my hiding space he stopped me from rejoining the game for a moment and stared me in the eyes. "Enjoying yourself?"

I had smiled and told him yes and when he smiled at me I ran off back with everyone else to start a new game. We played Duck Duck Goose until the clock struck 9 o'clock. We would have played longer but that was when the men decided to break through the large glass windows of the ballroom and fill everything up with smoke.

The other children and I had been sitting near the windows when they broke in and I remember them screaming as the cold and glass hit us. Then came more screaming, from the parents this time, and everybody seemed to start running away from the men. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know about Uncle until later and I had never been warned that someone might try to attack us at home so I sat very very still right where I was and stared up at the men. They were all dressed in white with big fur collars and goggles over their eyes. A few of them had guns and were shooting in the air to make the people scream and run more. One of them pointed their gun at me, paused, then began shooting into the smoke beyond. I turned in time to see my Uncle and one of his bodyguards crumple to the ground.

I remember screaming for him and getting up to go to him. My feet didn't take me more then a few steps before someone yanked me back and something cold and hard pressed against my head. "Let's go!" someone shouted.

My Uncle's bodyguards were trying to rush into the room as the guests were trying to rush out. Neither could move easily so there was no one to stop the men from leaving and taking me with them. I was carried away, still screaming, from the warmth and comfort of the house and plunged into the freezing temperatures February and snow bring. They dragged me to their snowmobiles, hidden beyond the tree line I was not allowed to go past, put me on one and drove away.

I quickly became more cold then I have ever been in my life. I had just my birthday dress to keep me warm after all and none of the men seemed concerned about me enough to put one of their coats around me or even offer me their mittens. By the time we arrived at their hideout I was freezing, my teeth chattering uncontrollably and my fingers slightly blue. None of them seemed to care. When I didn't move to get off the snowmobile they dragged me off by my arm and pulled me into the tiny shack they used for a base.

There was a man in a dark suit waiting there for them. "Who's that?" he demanded, glaring at me.

I instantly didn't like him. His eyes were angry and cold and he was working with the men who had shot Uncle and taken me away. However, despite the fact that I didn't want to go near him, he was sitting next to a tiny wood burning stove so I rushed over and pressed my fingers up near the heat source until I could feel them again. By then the men had informed their boss about the 'Operation' and explained who I was. I could feel the man eye me coldly. "He has a brat?"

"Seems so," one of the men shrugged. "I thought we'd take her as insurance in case he finds some way to wiggle out of this one again."

"Smart move," the man growled and turned to study me better. "What's your name, kid?"

I wiggled my fingers experimentally and glared up at him. When I didn't answer him immediately his eyes seemed to flash from brown to gray and he hit me so hard I went sprawling over the ground.

"I asked for your name, brat!" he shouted, standing and moving as if to hit me again.

As ashamed as I am to say it now, I'll admit that I was crying. Scooting back across the floor I looked desperately to the men who had taken me to protect me but they only looked slightly amused. My back hitting a corner I curled up as tightly as I could and held up my arms as if that would ward him off. "Pandora!" I gasped out, trembling like a leaf. "Pandora Nashton!"

The man moved to hit me again and then suddenly froze. "Nashton?" he muttered lowly for a moment. He stared at me, then began to laugh hysterically.

The men looked confused. I was confused as well. However, I never discovered what was so funny because at that exact moment the door burst open and a dark figure stepped into the room. It wasn't a man who had stepped in, it was a scarecrow like the ones I had seen in picture books or in the Wizard of OZ. But this scarecrow wasn't nice like those, his face was mean and angry looking and a rope hung around his neck. Big men with masks over their faces followed the scarecrow in and they raised their guns as the men who had taken me scrambled to pick up their own.

The scarecrow seemed to scan the room with his sunken in eyes, briefly glancing at me before nodding to the suited man. "Andre," he said and gave a short of half bow.

"Crane," the man hissed. His voice gave me the shivers it was so full of rage. "Crane you stupid son of a-"

The scarecrow raised something in his hand and threw it at the man. It hit him in the chest and it exploded filling the room with white smoke. Guns began to fire but suddenly all the noise seemed to go away. I was cold. So cold. Colder then when I was racing with the men on the snowmobiles. Everything that surrounded me was white and open and cold. I couldn't put my arms around myself to keep me warm, they were already blue and lifeless and frozen to the ground. I was buried in the snow from the waist down so I couldn't get up and run to find someplace safer. I was all alone... I was going to freeze to death! I remember trying to scream, but not being able to hear the sound of my own voice. The cold was eating everything up around me. The cold was going to eat me! The cold...

"Look at me!" the order suddenly cut through the silence of the cold and I found myself looking at the source of the cold itself. It was dark and horrible and seemed to suck everything into it like a vacuum. I struggled to get away but it was holding my shoulders tightly in preparation of eating me. "Look at me!" the shout came again.

I screamed and struggled and hit, absently realizing that there was still white smoke all around me and the sound of bloodcurdling screams punctuated by the occasional gunshot. I didn't care though. All I wanted was to get away.

The one I thought of as Coldness slapped me once, hard. "Pandora, look at me!"

The voice was somewhat familiar and this time when I looked, Coldness had my Uncle's eyes. Sobbing, I threw myself into Coldness' arms and clung to it tightly. I sobbed nonsense into Coldness' void, absently realizing that it was fitting something over my face, picking me up, and carrying me through the smoke. A hand gently touched my head. "You're safe," Coldness said with my Uncle's voice. "Quiet down now, you're safe."

I felt more then saw us leave the shack and once the chill of outside air hit me I... Well, I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is waking up in my own bed. Despite the fact that I was covered with every blanket and comforter in the house and that three hot water bottles were by my side I remember being panicking over the fact that Coldness was going to come and devour me. I remember the frantic tones of Niñera's voice as she tried to sooth me and my Uncle ordering someone to hold me still. My arm hurt and then everything faded to black again.

When I woke again my room was dark. I had never been afraid of the dark before but for some reason I was frightened and whimpered as I buried myself deeper into the covers. I heard something stir and I closed my eyes tightly, too afraid to see what it might be. Something settled on the side of my bed and then a hand gently began stroking my hair. "Are you awake?"

The voice was so familiar, so welcome that I burst from the blankets and threw my arms around my Uncle. I didn't care that I had never really hugged him ever before. I didn't care that it was colder outside of my covers rather then in. All I cared about was that my Uncle was putting his arms around me and I felt safe again. I didn't realize I was crying until Uncle was dabbing at my eyes and telling me to stop. "Stop this incessant crying, Pandora," he was sighing, sounding exasperated. "It will simply make you sick."

"I... I..." I couldn't say anything in reply but this didn't seem to bother him. Prying my fingers from his shirt he tucked me back into bed and smoothed my hair back from my forehead.

"You've been asleep for three days," he told me, looking into my eyes.

I struggled for a moment to speak. "Mouth... dry..."

He nodded and stroked my hair back soothingly. "It's a normal side effect from my fear gas," he said calmly. "Anything else?"

"C-Cold."

Uncle raised an eyebrow at me. "I somehow doubt that, considering all the blankets that infernal woman has piled on top of you." By infernal woman I knew he meant Niñera. "I'll shall see about finding you some more though. Now, tell me... Who am I?"

I stared up at him. "Uncle."

He seemed to expect that reaction. "Yes, but who _else_ am I?"

"I... dunno..."

Nodding, he reached over and grabbed something. He held it up for me to look at. "Pandora, what's this?"

I looked at the roughly stitched burlap piece of fabric he held up and frowned. It was familiar. "A mask."

"What of?"

"A scarecrow."

"Very good." He seemed to hesitate for a moment and then slipped the mask on. "Now who am I?"

For a moment my heart froze and I thought of Coldness, but then I saw my Uncle's eyes through the mask and relaxed. "You're still Uncle," I told him.

"Actually, when the mask is on I prefer Scarecrow," he told me, his voice slightly muffled. He eyed me carefully. "Pandora, are you frightened of this mask?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I considered this carefully for a moment. Why questions were always hard to answer since there were so many possible answers _to_ give. "Because it's just a mask," I finally told him. "It's silly to be frightened of a mask."

"That's true." He took the mask off and set it aside. "The only thing to fear is Fear itself... Remember that, child."

"Okay..."

Reaching over he stroked my hair back again. "You're a very brave child," he said softly, more to himself then to me. "I've raised you well." Uncle smiled at me softly. "When they took you I thought..." Suddenly he stopped and began to frown. Straightening up, he pulled his hand away and sat stiffly on the edge of my bed, staring into a corner where a night light was lit.

"Uncle?"

He was silent for a long time. Finally he reached over to my bedside table and removed a bottle and a glass of water. "Swallow this," he said firmly, dropping a pill into my hand and giving me the glass of water. "It will help you sleep."

I took the pill without comment and, settling back into my covers, watched him. "Uncle?"

"Yes child?"

"Could you..." I swallowed, embarrassed to have to ask him. "Could you stay for a little while and... keep away the Cold?"

The look in his eyes was almost pained as he nodded. "I'll stay," he promised.

Reaching out I grabbed his hand and smiled at him... And then I remember no more.

Three months later, just after I had stopped waking up screaming every night for fear of the cold, Uncle pulled me onto his lap to talk to me. It was a surprising but not unwanted attention and I sat as still as I could so he wouldn't decide to put me down. Reaching up, he began to stroke my hair as he stared out into space for a long time before finally focusing on me. "Pandora, would you like to go play out in the snow?"

I froze at his question and looked at him with tears in my eyes. "I-I-I..."

He nodded slightly, patting me on the head and frowned in disappointment. "It's alright. I won't make you go out there... Now, now, stop crying. You're twelve years old, far too old to be crying like a baby."

"Sorry," I muttered and tried to wipe my tears away.

"You're twelve," he said again. "Do you know what that means?" I shook my head. "It means you've been mine for almost ten years now. Next week actually it will be ten years to the day when I took you home with me."

I blinked at him, not really knowing what he meant. "So?"

"The merry month of May," he muttered and leaned back in his armchair, pulling me back with him. His arms tightened around me and I contented myself with the feeling of closeness and the sound of his heartbeat against my ear. "I've come to a decision, child," he told me after a moment.

"What?"

"You've outgrown your tutor Mr. Kingsly and I'm rather concerned about the fact that you haven't been studying much these past three months. You'll fall behind if this continues and since I haven't found you a decent replacement teacher... I've decided to send you away to school."

I jerked away from him. "Away?" For a moment I felt panicked then I thought about the village children and the school they journeyed to each day. "I get to go to the village school?"

"No, I've enrolled you in Adel Academy."

My nose wrinkled. "Where's that?"

"Switzerland."

To me, any country that wasn't home could have been on another planet as far as I knew or cared. "That's far away!" I shouted, pushing away and jumping from his lap. "You're sending me far away!"

"Of course," he said as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "You won't get a proper education here."

"I don't want an education then! I want to stay with you!"

Uncle frowned at me. "I won't have you grow up to be an uneducated savage," he told me coldly and I shivered at the tone of his voice. "I've already enrolled you. You'll be leaving next week."

I remember yelling and raging and accusing him of not loving me while he stared at me with a blank and uncaring look on his face. Realizing that I wouldn't be able to make him change his mind I ran out of the room, found Niñera, and sobbed into her blouse. She patted and soothed me, but told me she could do nothing. I was going no matter how much I didn't want to.

The next week was one of the worst in my life. I avoided Uncle as much as he tried to seek me out since I was too angry to deal with him. I tried to run away but didn't get any further then the front gate before I felt got too dizzy from all the snow that surrounded me and passed out. I refused to eat and snapped at Niñera and the other servants and stayed in bed for no other reason then I wanted to. However, despite all this, despite how hard I begged everyone to hide me so I didn't have to go, I found myself being bundled up in a thick coat in the front hall a week later. My luggage was already in the car. I was going.

Paul stood by the door looking embarrassed as Niñera wrapped a scarf around my neck and cried in Spanish. "You.. You will protect her?" she asked occasionally in English.

"Sure," he always replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot and refusing to look at us. "She'll be safe with me, Maria."

Finally I was deemed to be covered enough to walk outside and I dully grabbed Paul's hand and stared at the floor. I hadn't seen Uncle in two days but I was still too angry to care. Looking back I probably would have hated him forever if he hadn't appeared at the top of the stairs as we started walking out the door. "Child?"

I turned, broke free from Paul's grasp, and ran up the stairs to throw myself in his arms. He knelt down to catch me, wrapping his arms so tightly around me I thought I would break in half. "Don't wanna go," I told him sullenly as he pulled away.

"It's not the end of the world, child. I'll bring you back for holidays."

"But what about Niñera? She'll be lonely without me." I had to use Niñera as an example since I wasn't sure if Uncle loved me or not or even if he would notice that I would be gone.

"She'll survive," he told me dryly. "You'll survive too." He made me promise to call when I got there, give him regular progress reports, and study hard. He watched me from a the doorway, as Niñera sobbed and cried next to him, until the car turned away and was hidden by the trees.

"Chéri?" Charisse was shaking my shoulder and looking at me, concerned. "Chéri, we're there."

My head jerked up and I looked out and actually saw the airport before us. "Great," I muttered getting out and stretching. "Your cousin already here?"

"I believe so."

I gazed briefly out over the busy, snowy I stood at and felt a smile cross my face. _I'm going home..._ "Come on," I said, grabbing my suitcase out of my car and grabbing a luggage trolley while Charisse looked for someone to carry her bags for her. "Let's get this show on the road."


End file.
